


Waking (The Really Out to Get You Remix)

by Daegaer



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Assassins & Hitmen, Being Lost, Canadian Shack, Gen, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Psychic Abilities, World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26685589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: On his way back from a trade conference, Mamoru makes a horrible discovery.
Relationships: Naoe Nagi & Tsukiyono Omi | Takatori Mamoru
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13
Collections: Remix Revival 2020





	Waking (The Really Out to Get You Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Ganesh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Waking](https://archiveofourown.org/works/316647) by [Lady_Ganesh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh). 



> Thank you to my lovely beta-reader, Scribblemoose!

Mamoru bent forwards, stretching and then settled back into his pleasantly wide seat, wondering if the ache in his back was ever going to ease. He was never leaving Japan again, he decided. The Global Business Management and Economics Conference would survive without his attendance if it insisted on being held globally. Not even seats that pretended that they were individual cabinlets could make the prospect of the flight home appealing.

"Stop shifting around," Nagi said behind him.

"You'd think if I pay for so many first-class tickets that they could at least give us comfortable seats."

"The seats are fine - it's your own fault you insisted on playing ice hockey yesterday. You can't even skate. I should have let you fall on your ass."

"I was extremely graceful," Mamoru said, shifting again as his muscles complained. He turned to peer out at the clouds beneath.

"You were as drunk as the rest of them. Get some sleep, you'll be fine."

"I wouldn't want to miss the nouvelle cuisine poutine the menu threatens me with."

Nagi snorted sarcastically. "Fine. _I'm_ going to sleep."

"You can't, you have to stay awake to look after me."

Mamoru reclined his seat flat and closed his eyes, lulled off by the sound of Nagi's quiet grumbles. He woke with an urgent need to use the toilet and sat up wincing at the twinge in his back and thighs. Looking back, he saw that Nagi really had fallen asleep. He'd make sure to laugh about that later. When he came out of the toilet he paused. It was so quiet - everyone he could see was asleep, right in the middle of the day. Mamoru was suddenly, painfully awake. He stepped carefully back towards his seat. Where was the business class cabin crew? He put a hand on Nagi's shoulder and shook carefully. It could be hazardous, waking Nagi too quickly.

"Nagi," he whispered. Nothing. "Nagi?"

Nagi's hand fell off the armrest, hanging limply, and Mamoru hissed a curse under his breath, putting fingers to Nagi's jugular to check his pulse. Alive. He was alive. Mamoru looked in worry at the half-eaten dinner in front of Nagi, and then hurried to find the first aid. He found it, along with the male cabin crew. He'd had his throat slashed from ear to ear.

Timeline. Establish a timeline. The blood was congealing, this man had been dead for a while. It looked like everyone had been eating dinner; that was how they'd been drugged. Something fast acting if they hadn't had time to finish their meals. He himself had already been asleep – why not kill him right then? Of course, maybe he was being arrogant; maybe he wasn't the target. He fumbled with what he found in the first aid kit, cursing the labelling in English and French. He'd booked ANA, damn it. Why the hell did sharing routes mean they were flying on an Air Canada plane? He looked between two syringes and discarded one. Of course he was the damn target. He was always the target. 

"This," he muttered, looking closely at the syringe he'd chosen. "I hope."

He went back and gave Nagi what he really hoped was a shot of adrenaline. Nagi's eyes flew open, and the next thing Nagi was on his feet, Mamoru was off his feet clinging on to a seat back for dear life, and every loose item in the cabin was on the ceiling. 

"What –" Nagi said, far too loudly.

"Shh!" 

Mamoru pointed around. The items on the ceiling landed a lot more softly than they might have, given how wide-eyed Nagi was and the way he was breathing like he'd run a race.

"Dead cabin crew member in the galley," he whispered. "His throat's cut."

"The woman came out with the meals," Nagi said, his chest still heaving. "I heard something fall up there and asked if everything was under control. She said they'd just dropped one of the flight crew's bags." His lips thinned. "It seemed really normal at the time that the flight crew might have their baggage in the business class galley. Like someone was telling me it was nothing to worry about. You'd think I'd have been suspicious, after living with Schuldig."

He made a quick circuit of the cabin, returning even more grim-faced.

"Ogawa and Nishimura are dead. Ogawa asked her a question about security earlier. They must have looked more like bodyguards than me."

Mamoru risked putting a hand on his forearm. _I'm glad you look like my administrative assistant_ didn't seem like the thing to say. 

"Let's find her," he said.

"Stay behind me."

Nagi slipped around the curtain, Mamoru after him. Business class was unnaturally quiet as well, people slumped over their food. Mamoru checked on an elderly man who was blue in the face – no pulse. Damn it. He went past Nagi and just walked into economy in a fury. And stopped dead as the first-class female cabin crew looked up from giving a passenger in the second row a drink.

"Oh, you're awake," she said brightly in French accented English. "Please return to your seat, sir. I'll be right there."

Mamoru felt an overwhelming urge to go back to his seat and looked at her in confusion.

"I'll be right there, sir," she repeated, taking a step towards him. 

He felt himself yanked backwards, and flew through the air to land behind Nagi, on his feet but staggering, his back complaining in earnest. She followed, and now there was a gun in her hand.

"Another passenger awake," she said cheerfully. "Return to your seats. Now."

It was hard to resist, and Mamoru found himself backing up. He watched Nagi clench his fists and breathe hard, standing like he was facing into a gale. She must be strong.

"Interesting," she said in Japanese, looking at Nagi, and then, "Maudite Viarge!" The gun folded itself like paper in her grasp and she dropped it, glaring at Nagi. "So, a little TK. Sit. Down."

Nagi lifted a hand slowly and she blinked, then ducked a second before a tray shot at her eyes. Damn it, could she see the future? She vaulted to the side, right over the sleeping passengers and their seats, and was up the other aisle and back into first class in the blink of an eye. Nagi whipped around and raced after her, grabbing Mamoru's arm and pulling him along.

A knife came at them, deflected away with a flick of Nagi's hand. She ducked into the galley and there was a crash.

"Why are you serving that piece of shit, little TK?" she called. "Don't you know who he is? What he's done to people like us?"

"Stay down," Nagi said, shoving Mamoru back into his seat. "People like us?" he called. "I'm not Eszett's lackey any more."

"No, now you work for some mundane, for one of the herd," she laughed. "You're not more than a boy, little TK. You can still be free! Kill him and come with me."

"We're all going to Tokyo," Nagi said. "And I'm not a boy. I'm Schwarz."

There was silence.

"Do you need me to say that in French?" he said. "It will have to be actual French, you understand."

"You think you can make me lose my temper by insulting my accent?" she said.

Nagi shrugged. "It's worth a try," he said, sounding like he didn't give a shit. "It works just fine with another telepath I know."

"Little boy," she said. "None of us are going to Tokyo." 

She stepped around from the galley suddenly, an automatic pistol in her hand, and emptied the clip at Nagi as she ran for the door. She was wearing a parachute. Nagi flung up his hands and the bullets ricocheted everywhere as Mamoru ducked. At the same time there was a noise that was more like a blow from far down the plane, and everything lurched. People were screaming in economy, and a massive wind began to howl throughout the plane as the curtain was pulled back violently and things flew backwards in what felt like a typhoon.

As the pilot made a panicked announcement that Mamoru's brain refused to understand Nagi stood firm against the wind and punched a fist forwards. One of the seats tore itself up and crashed into the woman, smashing her against the bulkhead. A wide smear of blood and brains on the plastic followed her body as she slumped to the floor. 

"What's happening?" Mamoru yelled.

Nagi ignored him, flinging himself to look out a window. "Fuck! Fucking _hell!_ Mamoru, get the bags!"

"The bags?"

"Do it!"

Mamoru pulled himself up, feeling like he'd be sucked off his feet, and grabbed the rucksacks they'd brought on board. Nagi held his wrist tight and gestured wildly at the closets, pulling him up to the one that disgorged the cabin crew's equipment. 

"All these fat old businessmen," Nagi muttered, "There has to be – yes!" He grabbed up a couple of seatbelt extenders, clipping them together and then tugging Mamoru over to the dead assassin. The parachute clips all undid themselves and Nagi gave it a cursory once over before pulling it on. 

"How come you get the parachute?" Mamoru said, hanging on to Nagi, the seats, anything solid that didn't seem like it would be blown away.

"I had a few days training with them once. For a mission that we didn't end up doing. I still mostly remember." He threw the seatbelt extenders around Mamoru and him and fastened them together. "For God's sake, hold on tight."

"Nagi, wait! There are almost two hundred people still on board!"

Nagi just looked at the door. "Not my problem," he said, and pulled it free like he was tearing tissue paper.

The wind took them, and they were out, tumbling down through the frigid sky, the assassin's body blown away somewhere behind them. Looking back, Mamoru could see the hole in the plane's fuselage, the tail section just gone. Smoke was streaming from its engines and it was losing height fast. He closed his eyes and buried his face in Nagi's shoulder to try and stay warm, his grip tight on both Nagi and the bags. 

It seemed a very long time before the parachute opened.

When they finally landed Nagi went down, just collapsed, his eyes barely open. It had been a very soft landing, and they weren't frozen solid, so he'd been keeping them safe on the way down, but now – Mamoru sat on wet grass and felt horrified. He couldn't see smoke anywhere, so the plane hadn't gone down close by. They still had to get away from the immediate area. Eszett could send more assassins. Probably would send more as soon as they knew he was alive.

_I'm Schwarz._

His mouth set in a thin line, he unclipped Nagi from the harness and rolled him onto the parachute, dumping the bags with him. Then he unsteadily dragged the whole lot over the uneven ground to the edge of the woods wishing that Nagi was dragging him. It would be easy for Nagi. Or maybe not. He looked like he was carved out of ice. 

"You have to walk now, just until we find somewhere to shelter," he said, trying to get Nagi upright. He put one rucksack over his back, the other slung awkwardly on his chest, and then half carried, half dragged Nagi into the woods. It began to rain, and he felt despair, seeing hypothermia claiming them both. When the woods thinned again, and he saw a small cabin by the shore of a lake he felt like he could cry with gratitude.

"Help! Dammit, how do I say it in English? Oh, yes - _Help!_ " No answer. That might be the best answer of all. "Nagi? How do I say _help_ in French?" No answer there either. 

He dumped Nagi on the porch and tried the door. It was unlocked. Inside was just one small room, with a table and two rickety chairs, one straight-backed, one an ancient rocking chair. A musty looking mattress and some blankets folded on top of it lay in the corner. He managed to get Nagi inside, pulled them both out of their wet clothing and wrapped them in blankets. He looked at Nagi lying on the mattress, thinking of all the passengers who hadn't been Nagi's problem. And himself. Who was. Then in sheer exhaustion he sat on the chair, laid his head on the table and slept.

When he woke the rain had stopped, the sky outside was darkening and Nagi was still out, his face white and chilly to the touch. Mamoru shakingly put some of the dry branches standing ready by the fireplace into the hearth and hunted around for matches. Why couldn't he, just for a moment, be one of those Eszett people who could start fires with their minds? That would be so useful - he saw the matches at last. And a lamp. By the time he got a fire going and the lamp lit he felt he could sleep again, but that wouldn't be sensible. He put their clothes in front of the fire to dry out, and opened a cupboard, grimacing as a spider ran out over his hand. Then he focused on the tins inside; his mind was still refusing to allow him to waste energy on anything like reading English, but they had pictures of some kind of meat stew on them. He took the two saucepans he found out to the lake in the gathering dark and rinsed the webs away, then brought them back, one filled with water. The air felt damp, like it hadn't finished raining. Good. It would get rid of any trace of their passage from where they had landed to the woods. He pulled the ring-top lid free from a couple of tins and dumped the meat in the other pot. They both went on the fire.

He emptied their bags next. Laptops. Useless. Phones, still off for the flight. And damn well staying off for the moment. He had some souvenirs, snacks that would be exotic and interesting to people in Tokyo. He wasn't sure how far some damn Canadian Kit-Kats were going to get him and Nagi at the moment. Nagi's bag was more promising, the pockets stuffed with protein bars and nuts, exactly the stuff he'd need after expending so much energy. The honey-coated nuts looked incredibly tempting as Mamoru's stomach suddenly informed him that he was alive and had expended a lot of energy himself. He reluctantly ate one of the Kit-Kats instead and stirred the stew. He ate a spoon or two of it cold and gloopy straight from the pot and resisted the urge to eat it all. Then he went through the bags themselves, checking every last centimetre. He couldn't find anything suspicious; no locators hidden in pockets or sewn into the fabric. Maybe there weren't any. 

Behind him Nagi made a faint noise and went the sort of quiet which meant he was awake and wondering who he needed to kill.

"How are you feeling?"

He could see some of the tension go out of Nagi's shoulders on hearing his voice. 

"Like I single-handedly saved us both from an exploding airplane."

Nagi slowly got himself into a sitting position and squinted around. He looked terrible, his eyes sunken and shadowed, and he'd definitely lost weight. Mamoru pressed one of the protein bars into his hand and watched in some worry at the effort and concentration that was needed to unwrap it. Nagi wouldn't be able to fight off an aggressive mouse in his current state.

"Thanks," Nagi said through a mouthful.

"I held on to the bags," Mamoru said. "Obviously. I have some canned stew heating up; it smells OK, but I didn’t check how old it was."

"I don't care how cold it is," Nagi said. "Or how old. I'll eat it." He stuffed the rest of the bar into his mouth and swallowed almost without chewing. "How long was I out?"

"My watch broke – maybe ten hours? I slept too. I didn't turn on our phones."

Nagi gave him a look, like, _Maybe you're half-way as clever as you think_. "Good. Where are we?"

"Still Canada, I think? Somewhere in the west? I slept through the announcements of where we'd reached, and everything was too weird at the end to check, sorry."

"I'm not complaining."

Nagi looked around again, taking in the minimal furnishings and the dust-covered moose head staring down at them.

"You look like shit. How'd you get me here?"

"I dragged you on the parachute, then made you walk through the woods."

Nagi frowned a little, like he couldn't really remember, and took the bowl of stew he was given. He paused, looking down at it.

"Are you having any?"

"Yes," Mamoru said, "but I already ate some. You need it more." 

He looked at the door, the window – there was nothing to bar them with, and Nagi wouldn't be back to full strength for some time. He'd have to stay awake and hit intruders with a piece of wood. Maybe he should go back down to the lake and feel around for stones that would make good missiles. He wasn't so out of practice that he couldn't hit someone in the face with a damn stone.

"How much food did you find?" Nagi said, eyeing the saucepan. It was always a wonder how much he could put away when he'd been exerting himself.

"Enough for a while. Don't worry. It's been raining – it probably will again. We'll have to stay here a day or so for you to recover. We can use the time to plan."

When he looked back from the door Nagi was watching him, just watching him. Then he bent over the bowl and devoured the stew. Mamoru ate what was left in the pot, and when the water had boiled, rinsed out the tin cup he found and handed Nagi hot water to drink.

"You should get some rest," Nagi said, when it was Mamoru's turn to have the cup and he was gratefully drinking something actually hot.

"I'm fine," Mamoru said, eyes going back to the door. If the chair was put under the handle it would give a few seconds to prepare when they came –

"Mamoru. Stop. No one's looking for us."

"No, really, I slept earlier –"

"You're being stupid," Nagi said. "Knock it off."

Mamoru glared at him. Some thanks he got for dragging Nagi all the way here.

"There was a damn bomb on the plane," Nagi said. "If it went down somewhere out here –" He waved a hand a the night beyond the cabin door. "They'll never find all the bodies. Whoever sent that woman thinks we're dead. If they suspect we survived – for God's sake, have you checked how big Canada is? They have no idea where we are."

" . . . All right," Mamoru said after a moment. All those people. Children. Nagi's face as he tore the door open. _Not my problem_. The contempt in Nagi's voice as he said _I'm Schwarz._ He busied himself checking the clothes. "Still not dry," he said, to have something to say.

"Rest," Nagi said. "We both need to build our strength up. Come on, if you're not eating more, there's room here."

He moved to the edge of the mattress, and flipped the blankets back. The idea of lying down was seductive, although Mamoru was pretty sure every single one of his muscles would seize up by morning. Outside the rain started, and he forced himself to admit that Nagi was right. No one would come tonight, at least. He lay down and Nagi covered them both over.

"Mamoru," Nagi said behind him. "They all think you're dead. You don't have to go back." 

He tensed. The assassin, offering Nagi his freedom, and all he had to do was kill Mamoru. Nagi, offering _him_ freedom, and all he had to do was stay dead.

"I know," he said, keeping his voice level. "But –"

"Just think about it. OK?"

"OK," Mamoru said, and stared into the darkness.

At some point Nagi shifted closer, and it was warmer, so Mamoru let himself start to drift towards sleep. Nagi had to stay loyal until they reached safety at least. He was being ridiculous. Nagi was loyal; they could almost be friends. There was no threat in him, not for Mamoru.

Mamoru slept at last, his dreams uneasy and filled with the things he and his friends had done to each other.


End file.
